


Take the Deal

by pssychotropical



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Falling In Love, Jeno's a service top, Kun's thirty in this one, M/M, Misunderstandings, Power Imbalance, one-sided johnkun, shlocky happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pssychotropical/pseuds/pssychotropical
Summary: Kun agrees to become Jeno's sugar daddy.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Qian Kun
Comments: 14
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i don't know why either

So like almost every weekend, they end up going to a bar.

It's always Johnny's idea and Kun never finds it in himself to object to it, part of him worried that proposing something calmer, perhaps Italian cuisine and a bottle of dry wine in the comfort of his own apartment, would come across as too gay even for a pair of thirty-year-old gay men like themselves. So instead, he just shrugs and asks whether he should come pick Johnny up.

"You want to take your car?" Johnny's voice borders on mockery. "We're getting so hammered tonight you won't drive for three days." Kun can't decide if it's supposed to be a threat or an inciting promise.

Johnny's a few steps ahead of Kun as he walks down the main staircase of their law firm, his gait self-satisfied and dance-like, full of confidence and excitement, a boost of which always hits him at the end of each work day, even stronger at the start of the weekend. He's sporting a long black coat thrown on top of a slick, custom tailored suit, adorned by a tasteful combination of cufflinks, lapel pins and a jacquard tie with a silver clip to finish the look, none of which items can Kun imagine looking good on himself. The moment Johnny steps outside, pushing the glass door with his leather briefcase, a strong blow of January wind yanks a few hair strands out of his gelled coiffure. As if to help nature rid him of his corporate appearance, he shakes his head, causing more strands to break loose. Kun watches him with a suppressed smile.

"Be ready at seven," Johnny says then, turning around to face Kun while continuing to walk backwards. He brings a car key out of the pocket of his jacket, theatrically raises it up into the air and clicks, making one of the shiny company cars in the parking lot respond with a happy chirp. "I want you looking hot as fuck," he tells Kun, half as a joke, half seriously, and brings two fingers to his forehead as a goodbye gesture. Kun swallows.

When Johnny turns around again, Kun's still standing at the entrance, watching his friend stroll to the car, pat it on the roof, then jump inside and drive away, officially done for the day. Kun himself has one more thing to take care of, so he calls his assistant, hoping to still catch her in the office.

A few hours later, they're in the bar.

Hearing the news, Johnny leans closer to Kun, one hand holding the peanuts, on which he's eagerly munching. They always sit at the bar because, according to Johnny, occupying a table would suggest that they came as a couple, which, obviously, they didn't. They're not a couple, just friends. Two corporate bros looking for a way to relax on the weekend and vent out their frustrations. Sitting at the bar, Johnny says, makes it much easier to catch sight of hot twinks who come up to make an order so you can pay for them and flirt, which is something Johnny always does and Kun never. Personally, Kun hates it at the bar and hates how strangers always push their way to the bartender, elbowing Kun and breathing alcohol into his face.

" _Pro bono_ clients?" Johnny repeats, rather incredulously. "As in... you're their public defender?"

Kun shrugs, unmoved by Johnny's surprise. He picks up his glass of sauvignon blanc, which the bartender had to open a fresh bottle of, because nobody else in this place has any taste in wine. "Part time. I'm not quitting the firm."

"Oh wow," Johnny says then. He throws a peanut into his mouth, catching it on his tongue, which Kun observes out of the corner of his eye. "You won't make much money off of it," Johnny points out then, which is supposed to mean, why do it at all?

Kun rolls his eyes, only Johnny doesn't notice, momentarily distracted by a young man, approximately twenty-year-old, walking behind their backs with his butt squeezed into the tightest pair of leather pants Kun has ever witnessed. Johnny silently catcalls, and in his head, Kun's already counting the minutes until the moment Johnny departs from the bar, leaving Kun drunk and alone. Which is what he always does. Their outings to the bar aren't really the time for serious conversations as much as they are opportunities for finding noncomittal sex, because the more Johnny drinks, the hornier he gets, his eyes blatantly drifting away from Kun and into the dancing crowd.

On the contrary, the more Kun drinks, the more he wants to pour his heart out, which, unfortunately, is never allowed to take place.

Sensing that he'll soon lose Johnny completely, Kun quickly explains, "I don't do it for money."

Johnny looks back at him. He raises an eyebrow. "You're head of the banking division," he says, as if that's something Kun needs to be reminded of. "Don't let some petty misdemeanors distract you from the real thing."

And at this, Kun feels his eyebrows drop into an expression of annoyance. Which Johnny doesn't seem to pay attention to, throwing the last bunch of peanuts into his mouth, then ordering more whiskey. If at any point during the night had Kun hoped to be understood by his best friend, all the hope is now long gone.

"It's a personal need," he reveals, in a voice devoid of any emotion. "I want to rekindle my love for law."

Johnny's eyes are, once again, fixated on someone standing behind Kun's back, almost as if Kun himself was a see-through apparition, barely present at the bar. "Cool," Johnny comments, then slowly stands up from the seat.

And maybe, just maybe, it all shouldn't feel this goddamned painful. Maybe, Kun figures, it would all hurt less if only Johnny wasn't simultaneously Kun's closest friend and his biggest crush, the only one he has had over the course of last few years. Both hands on the bar, Kun looks at the mirror hanging over the alcohol shelves, where he can see his reflection in between two bottles of gin. He's stylised his hair with gel, pushing it back off of his forehead. He has put a casual shirt on, of the navy blue colour which he had always considered to go well with his skin tone. He even put some lipstick on, for chrissake. Just to be able to sit beside Johnny for an hour and never even receive his full attention. Not for one full minute.

God, he's so drunk.

When Johnny looks back at him, Kun shrugs. "Go," he says. "Fuck him good, you stud," he adds, in a humorous voice, which Johnny appreciates with a smile, before patting Kun on the shoulder.

"Good luck for you too," he tells Kun, and Kun can't decide if it's supposed to be a genuine wish or a form of mockery, since at this point in their relationship they should both be very much aware of Kun's infinitesimal desire to flirt with strangers in a place like this in this state of drunk misery.

Kun pats Johnny back on his arm, thus letting him depart.

So now he's alone. With a glass of sauvignon blanc and a very expensive outfit that didn't impress Johnny nor is it going to impress anybody else in the bar. He glances at the silver watch on his wrist to make a quick decision at what time he wishes to leave the bar, then looks over his shoulder at where his best friend is approaching a red-headed twink.

This happens every time.

Every time they go out to a bar, Johnny ends up with some slutty twink with no name, and Kun watches them flirt for much longer than a friend really should, taking notice of the way Johnny moves, how he holds the twink by his waist, how he leans in to whisper into his ear. Sometimes, the two of them dance, Johnny and the soon-to-be-fucked stranger. Other times, they sit beside Kun at the bar and Kun has the occasion, of arguable value, to listen to the way Johnny speaks, a whole different voice and a whole bunch of explicit words that Kun wouldn't ever hear leave Johnny's mouth otherwise.

So now he's looking at them as they start kissing, Johnny's hands all over the guy's body, and by god, Kun shouldn't feel hurt by that view, not at all, that's so against the rules of friendship that Kun has come up with and tries to tightly hold onto, like they're part of law that he works with. He watches, sips on wine, and then, all of a sudden, he hears Johnny's seat being taken. All of a sudden, Kun's sitting in somebody's shadow.

He doesn't look at the man, at least not immediately. Perhaps it's the alcohol bubbling in his body which causes him to feel strangely claustrophobic while surrounded by other men, especially if one of whom is Johnny. He finishes his wine in one go and is about to stand up and leave the bar when the bartender puts Johnny's order in front of him. It's Johnny's favourite whiskey. Upper shelf. Pretty expensive.

With the bartender's expectant stare heavy on his body, Kun quickly reaches for his wallet and pays. And as he does so, he can feel the newcomer's eyes on himself. That's when he finally looks at him.

The man's rather reminiscent of all the twinky boys Johnny likes to pick up in bars like this one, a bit like the final result of superimposition of all of their faces into one coherent image. He's much younger than Johnny or Kun, but not to the point of looking uncomfortably youthful. The contours of his face are well defined, the bone structure emphasised in the dim light coming from the bar. The sharpness of his jaw and cheeks seems balanced by the soft look of his almond-shaped eyes and the softness of his skin, and really, why is Kun even thinking all that.

With his finger, he points at the untouched glass of whiskey, which he logically assumes to be the reason of this stranger's interest. "Would you like to drink it?" he asks.

There is no immediate response. The stranger's face cracks into a sweet smile as he leans closer to Kun, not even sparing a glance at the whiskey. All he's looking at is Kun's face. "Should I?" he asks, at last. He tips his chin, indicating the glass. His caramel tinted hair, clearly dyed, slips from behind his ear. "Did you add anything to it?" The voice in which he says these words makes it sound rather innocent, but the accusation is clear to Kun and immediately brings out the lawyer in his drunk mind.

"I don't think you have any evidence of that," he says, faster than he thinks. "You were very much looking in this direction the moment the bartender placed the glass on the bar and I see no reason for you to assume that there is some kind of secret collaboration between me and him to drug the clients at his workplace."

There's a pause and the younger man doesn't react, only his eyes move, from Kun's eyes down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. What happens next is that he reaches for the glass of whiskey, picks it up and drinks it in one go, as if Kun has just dared him to do it, and not defended himself from the accusation of an attempted infliction of bodily harm. He puts the glass down, licks his lips and smiles. "I'm Jeno," he says. "Are you perhaps a lawyer?"

And his voice, very clearly intended to sound sexually suggestive, it takes Kun aback. "What?"

The man's smile continues to grow. He tips his head to one side, giving himself a playful look. "You're really handsome." His breath, hot and smelling of Johnny's whiskey, burns against Kun's skin.

This... is new.

As much as Kun has never had a problem speaking in public, whether to a room full of lawyers and businessmen, or while defending an obvious criminal in front of the jury, somehow this, this random conversation with a complete stranger, turns out to be so much more difficult.

He hesitates, finding himself at a complete lack for words. His first instinct is to flee. Act offended or disinterested, and quickly escape the scene, only both of these options are hard to pull off because he's very much interested, to his own surprise, and not offended in the slightest. And so he hesitates even more. Staring at the man's mesmerising facial expression, he wonders... what would Johnny do?

The first decision he makes is to order more drinks, for himself and for his new companion.

He pays for all of them and as brings the banknotes out of his wallet, a thought crosses his mind that maybe it's the ease with which he spends money that has revealed his identity as a lawyer. The stranger, Jeno, makes no more comments on the subject, only politely nodding his head with gratitude, taking a mouthful of free alcohol whenever Kun indicates he should. It's a pleasant change, Kun muses, to have someone focus their full attention on Kun, instead of constantly looking away, distracted, not listening. Maybe this is what Kun deserves after having to deal with Johnny for so long. At least once in a while he should have a pleasant conversation like this.

With his third glass of wine it's as if some kind of long-standing barrier has been broken down in Kun, all the alcohol loosening his tongue and allowing him to talk more freely, about whatever comes to his mind in the moment he opens his mouth. How strange the weather is, how hot the air inside the bar, the fact that sauvignon blanc is the best wine to drink, no question about it, Jeno should try some too, bartender, can I get some sauvignon blanc for this young man here? Jeno smiles, his eyes dropping on the bar for a moment, and with this smile, so big and bright, a realization comes to Kun that the man's indeed a really pretty thing to look at. His eyes grow bigger whenever he's surprised or amused by something Kun says, almost like a cartoon character's, and then they turn into the smallest two lines whenever he smiles. His lower lip is bigger than the upper, his eyelashes long and fluttering, and when he moves his head to the side, then back to Kun, the lights showcase his sharp jaw, moving slow as he thanks for the compliment Kun may or may have not just given him. Because Kun may or may have not just told him that he's very handsome too. And sexy. And that Kun may wish to kiss him soon.

"What if we leave to someplace more private?" Jeno asks, leaning closer to Kun. His hand has magically found its way to Kun's knee and is now lying securely on Kun's thigh. He's not putting any pressure on it, just touching it lightly, as if waiting for Kun to make the next move and do with it what he wishes.

Kun takes the last sip out of his glass and puts his hand on top of Jeno's, a gesture that seems almost out of his control. There is part of him which feels like it's all some kind of performance he's taking part in.

Before answering, he takes a moment trying to remember many nights spent in bars like this one. He's trying to recall those moments when he's been the involuntary witness to Johnny's flirtation with strangers. "Where would you want us to go?" he asks Jeno.

And the way in which Jeno smiles in response seems a clear indication that it's something he has already thought of.

Where they end up is a bathroom stall with its dim lights and shiny clean tiles, and barely does Kun have the time to think of what could happen next when Jeno's already kneeling down in between his legs. It's not a situation Kun has been in too often, living the life of a busy lawyer who doesn't bother with relationships nor with quick affairs, but his instincts don't disappoint him, as he grabs on the younger man's hair and bucks his hips a few times before eventually coming into his mouth.

On the following day, Kun won't remember most of the details of this event but he'd surely remember the view of Jeno's mouth as he lets go of Kun's dick with a wet pop. There's only a drop of come in one corner of his lips and looking up at Kun, he smiles to himself as if proud of swallowing everything else. Like a professional. Like an experienced sugar boy hunting for his next client, which Kun should have guessed to be the case in the very first moment they looked at each other.

"Let's consider this a free trial," Kun will remember Jeno say, in a voice hoarse after deepthroating. He has got Kun's smart phone in his hands and he's typing his phone number in it, giving himself a quick call before rising from the floor tiles, cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled by Kun's grip. He pushes the phone back into the pocket of Kun's jacket, and kisses Kun on the mouth, letting him taste himself, before finally whispering into Kun's ear, "I'm sure you can afford me."

The problem with Kun's _pro bono_ clients is that they aren't exactly what you would call _smart with law_. Nor, as it turns out, are they willing to rely on Kun's better judgement, even when the deal he makes for them is the best deal possible.

It's a young couple this time. The woman's pregnant and the guy's charged for selling stolen mini-fridges on the black market, and it must have been an absolute miracle that Kun managed to talk to the deputy district attorney and reduce the charge, considering the guy's priors. Five months in custody, five probation. Kun poured his whole heart into this case, and that is after sleeping for five hours in his own office and eating two packets of chips, one for lunch, one for dinner.

He followed the DA all around the courthouse, waving with his documents as he bombarded her with emotionally charged questions. "Are you aware that they have a kid on the way?" he asked. "Due in seven months. Don't you want the guy to see his baby delivered? Do you know how important the first contact with the parent is for a newborn?"

At first, she only reacted with sighs, clearly not buying Kun's arguments. But as the time went on and Kun didn't stop, the woman's stubbornness had its limits. "Mr Qian," she said after twenty minutes of a monologue about neurological development in children. She was about to eat her lunch and hearing Kun blabber about family issues clearly didn't go with her salad. "Will you stop following me if I agree on five months?"

And, somehow, for Kun, this was a bigger victory than any of the deals he has made for the corporations he represented as a banking lawyer in the last couple of years. This? This was real law. For real people. His heart made a leap.

What remains now to do is convince his client to take the deal. Because how could he not take it. It would stupid not to take it. Right?

"You don't want to go to trail," he tells the man, who looks distracted and doesn't seem to understand much of what Kun's just explained to him. Kun's voice is serious but reassuring. "Bottom line is, I'm your lawyer and I advise you to plead guilty. This is the best deal we can get."

The woman is looking at her smart phone, chewing on bubble gum. The man shrugs his arms, then scratches his chin. "I don't know, man," he says. "Maybe if we go to trial... we get like... no months." He looks up at Kun, who opens his eyes wide, flabbergasted, and the difference between the two of them is striking: Kun's dressed up in an ironed suit with a matching tie and shirt, while the man is here in a dirty hoodie and jeans. "You'll represent me, right?"

Kun blinks his eyes. "Listen--"

"It's up to me, right?"

Sometimes you work your ass in somebody's best interest and they decide that they don't want your help. That they rather risk everything and see how things go, instead of following the safest route that you prepared for them.

So they don't take the deal.

And as Kun leaves the courthouse, walking down the corridors in such a hurry that he elbows a few attorneys and knocks a packet of peanuts out of a man's hands, there's blood boiling in his veins, helpless anger making his head spin. Pushing the wooden door with all the force that is left in his body, he walks out into the cold January air, his coat squeezed in his one hand, in the other his briefcase, and he knows it will take him a longer while to simmer down. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then out, and then there's a phone call. He doesn't expect anybody to contact him, maybe except for his associates from the law firm, so it comes as a surprise to see an unknown phone number on the screen. He picks it up anyway.

"Qian Kun. Lawyer," he spits out, quickly, last moment hoping it may be a client of his, or perhaps someone related to a client.

But there comes a pause, followed by a suppressed giggle. "Jeno," the man introduces himself. "That guy who sucked your dick last weekend. Remember?" When Kun doesn't respond, Jeno clears his throat. "Can you talk now?"

And truth be told, Kun doesn't have to speak to him. There is no law obliging him to continue this conversation, and nothing stops him from immediately hanging up on the man and never hearing from him again. End it right here, this whole stupid situation born out of a heartache and too much sauvignon blanc. He could do it.

But then, as it gradually dawns on him, with each consequent second spent listening to Jeno's breathing on the phone, maybe this isn't such a bad idea. Maybe sometimes Kun has to walk away from the paved road and into the wild. Maybe he should take the risk and have fun, if there is no fun in anything else in his life at the moment. Even if it requires him to pay for it.

"I can talk," he says, his voice slowly changing in quality. The remains of his anger are still audible, but there's also a newly discovered confidence joining them. He feels a surge of excitement, almost like when he's in the courtroom. Like he can actually negotiate the things he wants, all the arguments ready and planned on the documents right in front of him.

"Alright, great," Jeno's voice responds. "I was just wondering if you thought about our deal."

Kun remembers vaguely that the deal means whether he wants to make a monthly payment to have this complete stranger act as his sugar boy. Which sounds like nothing Kun would ever want or even think about. Which is maybe why he _should_ do it. Why should say yes. Take the deal.

"I'm absolutely starving," he tells Jeno, starting to walk towards his company car. He fishes the keys out of the pocket of his jacket and takes a breath in, quickly thinking of an expensive restaurant in the area. "Can I pick you up?"

Somehow Jeno looks even better in the daylight.

Kun picks him up from a street corner a few blocks away from the law firm, where he's casually standing and flicking through his smart phone, nothing about his look indicating where he could be coming from or what activity he may have busied himself with before their phone call. His hair is ruffled by the wind when he jumps into the passenger seat, winter jacket unzipped, no hat or gloves, his nose and hands reddened with cold. Having fastened his seat belt, he smiles at Kun and a thought pops in Kun's mind how innocent and normal Jeno seems, nothing about his appearance or behaviour betraying his intentions.

The waiter recognizes Kun from a few private dinners with his clients, nodding at him and quickly leading both of them to a table. Only once they sit down does Kun grow aware of the fact that as much as Jeno on his own doesn't attract much attention, while accompanied by Kun and in this particular environment, he may look a bit out of place.

"Cool restaurant," Jeno comments, then points at his menu lying in front him. "Pretty expensive though."

Kun can't decide if the words are a sincere expression of surprise or merely a way of pleasing Kun. "Pick whatever you want. I'm paying," he says. When Jeno smiles, a bit abashed, Kun shrugs his shoulders. "You were wondering if I could afford you."

Jeno doesn't respond, his eyes for a brief moment scanning their surroundings. There's jazz music playing softly in the background. The chairs are upholstered in red leather, the chandelier is a full-scale artistic installation of lightning fixtures, and Jeno may be the only man in the entirety of this restaurant not to be wearing a suit. Which gives him an air of a younger sibling brought to dinner against his will.

When he redirects his attention back to Kun, there's a new-found softness in the corners of his eyes, a bit apologetic. "Sorry I didn't dress up. I didn't know."

Kun clears his throat. "Don't worry."

Kun's words have an immediate effect of bringing the smile back on Jeno's lips. He crosses his arms on top of the table and leans towards Kun. "You know, at first, I wasn't sure you were interested in... this. You kind of didn't seem like the type."

Kun raises his eyebrows, more intrigued than slighted. "The type?"

Jeno doesn't respond immediately, and there's a degree of shyness in his hesitation, which Kun admits to be very charming. So that's why Jeno does what he does. Because he's clearly good at it. It takes just a few smiles and one or two hesitant silences and Kun finds himself being slowly wrapped around Jeno's little finger.

"You seem very normal," Jeno says at last. "In a good way."

Kun doesn't comment.

For a longer while they both stare into their menus in silence, until the waiter shows up to take their order. Jeno allows Kun to speak first. It's a bunch of French dishes with names too difficult to pronounce so Kun doesn't even try, and a bottle of wine. Kun guesses it may come in handy.

Pouring himself his first glass, Kun decides to re-initiate their conversation, instead of continuing to watch Jeno look around, which Jeno doesn't seem to mind. It feels like it has to be Kun directing their meeting, and Kun doesn't know yet whether he really likes it or not.

"So," he starts, swirling the wine in his glass. "Tell me something about yourself?" The moment he asks the question, he realizes it may be more of an idle wish.

Jeno politely smiles to him. "Something like what?" It's the tone of Jeno's voice, wary and sweet, which tells Kun that who Jeno is depends more on who Kun wants him to be than anything else.

He shifts in his seat. "Your age. For starters."

This time, when Jeno hesitates he comes across as slightly nervous. "Well," he pauses. "I'm legal."

Kun hums in acknowledgement. "More precisely?"

There's a frown ceasing Jeno's forehead, for a second or two, as he makes up his mind. "I sometimes tell men that I'm nineteen or eighteen," he reveals. "But I'm really twenty one." His eyes stir up to look for Kun's reaction. "Is that okay with you?"

Assuming that Jeno says the truth, Kun quickly calculates their age difference. Nine years. "Sure," he says at last.

Once again, he turns his attention to his wine glass. He's sitting in a restaurant where he very often brings his clients, just because he wanted to appear rich, and he doesn't know what to talk about with this twenty-one-year-old man, not to mention doing things with him. Jeno's looking him in the face awaiting further instructions and Kun has a completely empty head, simply sipping on the alcohol. The air of awkwardness seems to slowly settle over their table.

That's when Jeno decides to pick up his backpack. He brings what appears to be a few pages of a document, printed in a small font. When he places it on their table in front of Kun, Kun takes a look but doesn't pick it up yet. "What is this?" he asks, cautiously.

Kun's reaction seems to amuse Jeno. "Don't worry. You don't need to sign it," he jokes, then leans forward and opens the file on its second page. "It's just a comprehensive guide to all the services I provide. I thought it would help us avoid awkward conversations."

Kun frowns. "This," he points at the document, then makes a vague movement with his hand, "is an awkward conversation." When Jeno smiles and leans back against his chair, leaving Kun with more room to breathe, Kun finally reaches for the document, partially curious to see its content, partially worried that one of the restaurant's guests may have a sneak peak at it and learn the purpose Kun and Jeno's meeting.

One brief look at the long list of phrases is enough for Kun to decide to close the file. Jeno's services reach from dinners, museum strolling, casually spending time at his sugar daddy's home, to various sexual favors, some of which Kun doesn't even know what they mean. And there's a monthly rate, at the bottom of the last page, which Kun quickly notes in his mind. "I don't think this is all necessary," he quickly tells Jeno.

Jeno smiles, a bit self-satisfied, a bit sheepishly. "It's fine. Keep it. Maybe it'll come in handy some other time." Kun hesitates how to explain to the man that he doesn't wish to carry papers like this in his work briefcase, but then he packs it inside with no further comment.

"You're a lawyer, you know," Jeno speaks up again, tipping his chin in the direction of Kun's briefcase. "I don't want you to sue me or anything."

Kun chuckles, rather restrained. "That's unlikely. We don't have a written contract and I'm going to pay you in cash anyway."

Jeno pretends to sigh with relief. His almond-shaped eyes turn into slits, and the view makes Kun's heart throb. He really shouldn't be so affected this early. "If something's not on the list, we can still discuss it. I'm open to..." Jeno leans closer. "...new experiences." And with that, his face changes in a split second, the charming smile turning into a very clearly sexual expression, tongue momentarily licking his lower lip.

Kun swallows, but doesn't respond.

They don't talk much as they eat, and Kun can't describe their first dinner as an overall very pleasant experience, maybe except for the possibility of watching the man chew on his food and sip on his glass of wine, and look around with curiosity in his small, youthful eyes. It's somewhere by the end of their meal that Kun realizes that he has no specific plans for the night, neither has he really thought through his invitation of Jeno to the restaurant. So when Jeno puts his cutlery down, cleans his lips with a napkin, and leans forward to ask, "Shall we go to your place now?" Kun finds himself slightly confused.

But they go to his place.

It's an apartment on the top floor of a skyscraper, with a whole glass wall where the kitchen area is combined with the dining room, living room and hall into one open space, and most of its furniture as well as the scarce decorations are colored light grey or dark brown, which Kun's interior designer called a very universal look for a place inhabited by a single man.

Jeno seems to scan the apartment before fully stepping inside and taking off his red winter jacket, a sudden splash of color in this scene of bleakness.

Kun is aware of the impression that his place usually makes on its rare guests. There are no coats hanging by the entrance and no shoes on the floor. In the kitchen area, there are no dirty dishes in the sink and in the dining space, no empty glasses or plates left on the table after a hurried breakfast. The living room's corner sofa doesn't even exhibit signs of being previously occupied, no creases to be spotted on the seating, as if it's just been brought inside by the moving company. If Jeno looked into the fridge, Kun muses, he wouldn't find much food except for maybe one frozen lasagne, a last resort option, and a glass jar of French mustard, long expired.

"Cool place," Jeno says, the first words to be exchanged between the two of them since the start of their silent car ride. It's an expression of courtesy on the man's side, Kun thinks, rather than a sincere opinion. There are reasons why even Kun himself doesn't necessarily enjoy spending time in his own apartment. "So," Jeno starts, but then doesn't say anything else. He's just standing there, on the squeaky clean white floor boards, in his light green hoodie, backpack hanging from his one shoulder as he holds it by the strap. He doesn't push Kun to make a decision, but he certainly stirs him in the direction. "What would you like us to do?"

With the lights turned on, a series of LED lights built into the ceiling, creating abstract geometrical shapes, the neighbouring skyscrapers are barely visible through the windows. Jeno's silhouette is reflected in the row of ceiling-high mirrors as well as the big plasma TV behind his back.

And really. What does Kun want them to do?

Taking off his leather shoes and placing them beside Jeno's pair of snickers, Kun doesn't reply. Jeno chooses to slightly tread deeper into the living room area. With his back to Kun, he says, "You know, it's a bit weird when you don't say anything at all." And then he laughs, as if trying to relax the atmosphere.

Kun snickers too, even though he's not entirely amused. It feels strange for him, too. Having this complete random man walk around his private space is something Kun thinks will take him a bit of getting used to. "What kind of weird?" he asks.

"You know, serial killer kind of weird. Have you seen that movie? It's like you're about to put on a plastic uniform and all that." When Jeno turns around, there are a few steps of distance between them. "It's a bit late so if you want us to just go to your bedroom, we can do it now."

And so they do, and by the time they walk into the room, Kun makes up his mind on how to further direct their meeting. "I want you to do what you usually do," he tells Jeno.

Jeno looks at him over his shoulder. The lights in Kun's bedroom are much dimmer, and with just how few things there are in the entire room, most of which are colored cold grey, Jeno is the absolute highlight of this environment, forcing all the attention onto himself. Which maybe makes him feel a bit self-conscious. But only for a brief second. "I do a lot of things," he reminds Kun, jokingly.

"What you usually do _in a bedroom_."

"Like getting naked?"

"You can start from that."

The task is easily fulfilled, with no further questions. Jeno quickly reaches over his head with his both arms, grabs the back of his hoodie and yanks it off of his back, dropping it on the floor. He does the same with his t-shirt, and barely does Kun have the time to take in the full view of the man's chest, slim and with visible muscles, when Jeno moves on to unzip his pants. He bends down, works them off his legs, struggling a bit because of how tight they are, and then immediately takes off his underwear.

And so now he's standing in front of Kun completely naked. In his full glory. His legs are shaved, as well as his crotch and armpits, and his whole body looks smooth, clean and well taken care of, like he regularly goes to gym and never forgets to take a long shower afterwards.

"What do I do next?" he asks. Even if he was nervous, nothing in his voice or posture betrays that.

Kun takes a moment to respond. "Sit on the bed," he says and Jeno follows the order. It's not the way anyone would sit, though. As if automatically, he spreads his legs apart and places both of his hands on the bed for support, leaning slightly backward. And that seems like an open invitation, a confident submission. He looks up at Kun, who's still standing by the door, and willingly presents himself for the taking.

"And now?"

"Jerk off." Kun's voice comes out sounding much more confident than he actually feels. "Make yourself come."

There's a brief pause.

Even from the distance between them, Kun can see his eyes light up a little, as if he's just accepted a challenge. There isn't much reservation in him, nor any degree of hesitation, only pure will to succeed, possibly in earning his money. He doesn't ask for a lubricant, not that Kun would have any to offer, simply spitting into his own hand and quickly starting the performance. Because that's what it really is. A small performance before a one-person audience, made up of Kun, who doesn't move, doesn't say anything and isn't going to. Instead, he remains a careful observer, taking note of every change that gradually takes place in Jeno's body, from the way his chest begins to rise and fall at a higher speed, through the way his face and neck flush up, and finishing on the way his breathing remains quiet despite the growing effort to keep it as smuch. It's like he's stopping himself from making any sound because he doesn't want to disturb the perfect silence of Kun's apartment. Because he hasn't been explicitly asked to make sounds. Only one time a moan slips past Jeno's lips, and that's when Kun feels a stronger throb in his own pants, confirming that this is actually something he wants. For a moment, Jeno's eyes close with pleasure, but then he quickly flutters them back open, looking straight into Kun's eyes, and the movement of his fist becomes much smoother once he can use his own precome for lube.

Kun knows when Jeno gets close to his release, muscles tensing and toes curling, and part of him wants to say something, say how good it makes him look, how sexy he is when he pleasures himself, but he stays quiet and it's this sterile silence of his modern apartment which is broken by Jeno's final gasp in the moment of his orgasm.

He spills onto his chest in a long series of spurts, some of which drop on Kun's bedsheets and floor too.

And then.

It's over.

"You can use the bathroom," Kun says. "And then you can go. Money's in the envelope." When he reaches for it into the inside pocket of his jacket, Jeno's eyes quickly follow.

He doesn't stand up to pick it up, though. Not yet. He's still panting, high on his recent orgasm, and when he looks back at Kun, his eyes remain dark and clouded over. "Do you need me to hurry?" he asks, as if alerted by Kun's instructions. Does he think Kun has someone else coming over? Does he think Kun lives with someone and doesn't want to get caught by them? A wife? Maybe a boyfriend?

He watches Jeno's chest rising and falling, uncontrollably fast, his body still glazed with sweat and marked by the spurts of come. "No hurry," Kun tells him. "Your job is done for today. That's all."

Jeno blinks his eyes. "You don't want me to--?" He finishes the sentence by looking down at Kun's crotch. He means sucking Kun's cock the way he did it back in the bar, only this time he would be naked and kneeling in Kun's bedroom, and Kun would be able to see every detail of his face when Kun's cock would hit the back of his throat.

Kun shakes his head. "No. That's all. Just go."

There's a pause.

In the silence which follows, even more uncomfortable than all the previous ones combined, Jeno stands up from the bed and picks up his clothes from the floor.

Some time later, when the door closes behind Jeno and Kun's alone in the apartment, the usual order of things restored, he sits down on the sofa and thinks. He thinks that maybe this should all appal him. That maybe he should hate it and immediately wish to stop it, only the truth is he enjoys it way more than he could have expected.

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, head on the back of the sofa, he replays the scene in his memory, with all of its details, still fresh on his mind. The way Jeno sounded, so small and quiet. The way he held his cock in his fist, knowing his body so well, aware of how to quickly make it shudder with arousal. Kun wonders if the fact that he stood there, just a few steps away, fully dressed and watching in silence, helped the man come faster.

Thinking of all that and remembering how the muscles in Jeno's legs tensed right before his release, Kun finds himself unzipping his pants and letting his hand dip into his underwear.


	2. Chapter 2

"Earth to Kun. Are you listening? God. What's wrong with you today?"

When Kun brings his thoughts back to the present moment, he sees Lua staring intensely into his face with her heavily made-up eyes. They're at lunch in one of the fancy Italian restaurants where the lawyers from their firm usually go, all three of them, including Johnny, who's now with a lot of amusement pointing in Kun's direction with his fork.

"There've been many mysterious things going on with Kun lately," he says, munching loudly on his pasta with shrimps. His tie is loosened around his neck and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his arms.

Kun frowns.

"What do you mean mysterious?" Lua asks and it's the exact same question that's on Kun's mind. Elbows on the table, she's holding a wine flute in her both hands, fingers intertwined on the glass. With her short dark hair, black nails and red lipstick, she has the kind of aura about herself which makes most of the lawyers at their firm happy that they don't need to go against her in court.

Johnny makes a vague motion with his fork, which means they need to wait until he swallows. They do. He then leans forward, to both of them, like he's about to tell a secret. "Last time we went to a bar, I saw Kun leave with a guy. And I can tell you he wasn't just showing him the way to the men's restroom."

Surprised by this piece of news, Kun released a sudden, choked-off groan. "What's wrong about that? Also, how did you even know?"

"Nothing wrong." Johnny shrugs, scooping more food onto his fork. "I'm just pointing that out because you've never left the bar with anyone before." Kun wants to disagree and ask how Johnny can be so sure of that, but the truth stings too hard and he keeps silent. "I was you watching from the dancefloor. That's how." The way Johnny speaks sounds exaggeratedly cheerful, and it's obvious that he's unaware of how the words make Kun's heart take a leap in his chest.

"You were _what_?"

That's when Lua cuts in. "You said _many_. What are the other things?"

As if to check if he's ready, Johnny first looks at Kun, then back at Lua. "Did you hear something about _pro bono cases_?"

The woman gasps. "What?" She hesitates, then looks at Kun accusatorily. "You told Johnny but you didn't tell me? What is it? Family law? Criminal defence?" Johnny enthusiastically nods at the latter, but doesn't say a word, mouth full of pasta. Lua's eyes grow bigger. "You must be shitting me. You're defending criminals?"

Suddenly very irritated that he didn't decide to stay in his office for the lunch break, Kun starts tapping with his fingers against the table. "Technically not all of them are guilty."

Lua ignores him. "What is this? Middle life crisis?"

"I never said I would be leaving the firm."

"I know. It's just," she waves her hand, aimlessly, "it's so strange to imagine you at the courthouse with some random people."

Kun shifts in his chair to sit more upright. "I'm actually doing pretty good."

And at that, he hears Johnny let out an ill-suppressed laugh. "I bet ya." When he points at Kun with his fork, there's an olive stuck on it. "Kun's there on the mission of justice," he jokes, and Kun's heart starts beating faster again, this time for a different reason. He's annoyed at both of his friends. And Johnny the most.

"Can we switch the subject?" he complains.

It only makes Johnny laugh harder. With the food in one side of his mouth, he says, "Look how selfless he is."

At the end of the week, Kun knows who to call to relieve himself off the stress.

He's still flipping through Jeno's services brochure when the man takes the elevator to the top floor, but soon as they stand face to face, he knows that none of it matters. He has a specific plan for the evening and he opts for simplicity.

Walking inside the apartment and taking off his red winter jacket, Jeno poses like a model in a fashion advertisement, shaking the jacket off with one leg forward, back straightened. What appears under the colorful layer of clothing is an elegant shirt in a muted shade of green, very appropriate for the kind of dinner Kun planned.

"How do I look?" he asks, seeing Kun scan his body. When Kun compliments the shirt, Jeno smiles. "I thought you would like it."

There's something calming in the way Jeno so obviously tries to please Kun. When they walk to the dining area, he admires the carefully prepared table, with all of its candles and flowers, and he waits for Kun to sit first, before sitting himself. He doesn't touch the cutlery nor does he appear in a hurry to eat, only playfully fidgeting with the Christmas-patterned napkin while looking into Kun's eyes and awaiting a conversation.

"I didn't cook it," Kun says at last, arms crossed on the table. "It's all ordered from the same restaurant we went to last time."

Jeno smiles again. It's almost a reflexive reaction at this point, to anything Kun does or says. "Of course, you didn't. You must be a very busy man."

It's obvious flattery, intended to feed Kun's ego as a man with an important job. And even though it's so obvious, Kun finds himself enjoying it.

"So," Jeno continues, seeing that Kun has no intention of responding. He puts the napkin down and leans with both elbows on the table, mimicking Kun's pose. The candle lights flicker as he moves, and reflect in his both eyes. "Do you want me to... be saying something to you?"

Picking up a wine bottle and skilfully opening it with a corkscrew, Kun raises his eyebrows.

Jeno has to elaborate on the idea. "This all looks so fancy, and I wish I could... you know, play along." He passes his glass to Kun. Kun fills it with wine. "You just need to tell me what to do."

"You're doing great."

Jeno smiles, but only momentarily. "You sure?" Guessing that Kun won't respond anyway, he keeps going. "If you want us to play boyfriends, I can do it. Just tell me who I am."

Kun takes a sip on his wine, then places the glass down. "Your brochure says you don't mind staying over the weekend and simply hanging around at your sponsor's place," Kun reminds him. Then changes the subject. "Can you pass me your plate?" When Jeno does, Kun opens one of the pots. A weak cloud of steam rises from the inside. "Spaghetti with white shrimps. Marinated in lime. The menu made me curious."

"I'm sure it's delicious," Jeno immediately replies. It sounds like a recorded phrase ready to be replayed at any moment in the exact same tone. It's one of those things you learn when you spend so much time pleasing older man with good etiquette and sex, becoming almost a pull-string doll.

Sometimes Kun wonders about these other men, who they are and what _they_ do with Jeno. But he doesn't ask. At least not yet. Instead, they simply talk about the food, a few brief sentences here and there, sprinkled between the clatter of the cutlery and the sound of more wine being poured into their glasses. Kun realizes just how admirable it is to have someone so well-mannered and good-looking sitting at the same dinner table.

And then, they are done with the food.

That's when Jeno moves his chair against the floor panels, with a screech, bringing his backpack from the floor. He puts it on his lap and picks out what looks like another document. Waiting to receive it, Kun runs his tongue over his teeth, checking.

"What's that?" he asks then. Jeno doesn't have to reply. As soon as the document gets into Kun's hands, he knows it's the std results. There's Jeno's name at the top of the page. Lee Jeno. Aged twenty-one. Negative. He looks at Jeno over the table. "Why?"

Jeno shrugs. "I thought you would be one of those guys who want to know."

And somehow, Jeno's attention to detail, and his carefulness about the whole process, it really turns Kun on. "Stand up," he tells him, suddenly eager to check off the last item on his list for the night.

Jeno doesn't ask questions. He stands up, propping his hands on the table and leaving his backpack on the chair. The lights' nervous movement reflects on his dark green shirt, which helps define the muscles of his chest and arms.

"I think our meeting's coming to an end and you know what that means." Even in the dim lighting of the apartment, Kun can see the man's cheeks heat up, with what may be both excitement and awkwardness. Somehow this combination really does things to Kun. "Jerk off and come on the table. Then you can go."

It's a pattern they follow in all of their subsequent meetings.

Having a stressful day at work, Kun texts Jeno to come over and that's what happens. They eat, exchange a few words, and sometimes Jeno tells a story or two about something that has recently happened to him, without ever revealing any private information. A conversation with a store clerk or maybe an interesting incident that he witnessed in the street, which he recalls in detail and with a charming excitement, typical rather of children than grown-up men like himself. The only thing that changes over the course of the next few weeks is the atmosphere of their meetings; knowing Kun's expectations, Jeno seems to come with a more relaxed mind, and even his jerking-off session seems more skilled every time, with more interesting changes to take notice of, as he lazily strokes himself to release. Sometimes Jeno smiles to Kun during the act, other times allows more sounds to leave his mouth, as if testing Kun's reaction. At some point, they even start talking.

They're back in Kun's bedroom and Jeno's naked, like the first time they did it, and Kun watches him, with his back comfortably propped against a closet. And that's when he breaks the silence.

"Did you buy the coffee?" he asks, referring to a previous conversation of theirs, only Jeno seems to barely remember it, among all the other insignificant stories he told, especially now, with his hand wrapped around his reddened cock, on the verge of release, steadily fucking his own grip. "I hope you did."

Jeno lets out a ragged breath, looking up at Kun, his eyes clouded and pupils blown with surprise. "Yeah?"

"I pay you so much, you should be able to afford the expensive one," Kun continues, and there's nothing in his voice which could betray the kind of scene he is an attentive witness of. His eyes don't leave Jeno's face even for a second.

"I just--" Jeno's breath hitches. "I just like-- saving money."

Kun hums with understanding. "What are you saving it for then?"

Jeno's hand keeps working fast, establishing an even quicker pace, and it's as if Kun's words were distracting him from his release but at the same time teasing him into prolonging the act, putting more effort. "I just--" He pauses, suddenly unable to speak, in need of a quick intake of air.

"You just what?"

The next time Jeno speaks up, he sounds hoarse and wrecked, and his whole body begins to shake, vibrating with the need to come.

"It's for-- you know, just-- college." And the second he says these words, his mouth drops open into a choked gasp, and he comes, spilling his load on his body and his own face. "Oh my god."

At that, Kun grins.

There is sweat beading on Jeno's forehead, and when he finally lets his softening cock drop out of his hand, he seems exhausted, like all the strength has drained from his body, with his orgasm as well as the reveal of the piece of personal information. And all that Kun can think of in that moment is just how much better it feels to be sponsoring a student.

"I don't know, Mr Qian. I kind of don't want to come here again."

Kun hears himself sigh, almost against his will.

He's sitting on the bench beside his client and he's really running out of time at this point. "Listen to me, because this isn't very difficult," he tells the young man. "You show up, you plead guilty of simple battery and you get sentenced with public service. This is all that's going to happen to you. I know that. Can you trust me?"

There's a pause, and Kun stirs on the bench anxiously, until the young man finally shrugs his shoulders and says, "All right, Mr Qian. I'll do it."

And just then, out of the corner of his eye, Kun spots the DA walking out of the elevator. She's holding the case files under her arm and she doesn't seem to be in too much of a hurry; a perfect moment to attack. Kun quickly turns to his client. "If you have any more questions, just call me. Understand?" He looks at the young man. The man nods again. "I have to go now." Kun pats him on the shoulder, and quickly collects his belongings from the bench, sprinting to catch the woman, so fast that a few drops of hot coffee stream down the plastic cup and onto his fingers.

"Mrs Bae," he starts, as soon as he's walking by her side. "Joohyun. Can I call you by your first name?"

She looks at the wrist watch, only then at Kun's face, both taken by surprise and displeased to see him. "Mr Qian. What is it this time? Which one of your client has a baby on its way?" he asks, with clear mockery and irritation. Kun wonders if it's her lunch time that he's now disturbing.

"Can we talk about..." He quickly reaches to his briefcase and fishes out a folder, reading off the number of the case, the name of his client and a few details about what he did. "Can we talk about this one? Six months? I think you went a little bit overboard, Joohyun."

Continuing to walk upstairs, the woman sends him a cold stare over her shoulder. "Mr Qian," she bites out.

"It's Kun," he corrects her. As he tries to keep up with the woman's pace, he accidentally elbows someone passing him by. "It wouldn't be fair for this poor man if you intentionally ramped up his sentence because of our personal relations." He knew this line of argument would be a bit risky the moment he planned it during the previous trial, lazily sketching it on the back of notepad, but the DA's reaction surprises him nevertheless.

She stops walking and Kun almost bumps into her, almost pouring the hot coffee onto her elegant lavender jacket.

"I think I need to explain a few things to you, Mr Qian," she starts, in a tone so cold Kun hasn't ever heard it before. Her eyebrows, carefully trimmed, plucked and brushed with a shadow, they furrow. "It's very admirable that you spend some of your precious time doing _pro bono_ cases, but I don't think you fully understand how things work in here. This isn't banking law. You can't get people out of jail with just as much ease as you can evict people from their homes because your bank wants to expand its divisions."

Kun wonders if his urgency has been audible on the phone because Jeno appears at his door step in a much shorter time than should technically be possible. When he walks in, Kun notices that he's dressed up in his more casual clothes, a beige hoodie sticking out from under the red winter jacket, the strap of a sports bag crossed on his chest, possibly carrying his college workbooks. Somehow, this view only further stirs the fire in Kun's body.

"I hope you didn't skip any classes," he starts, slowly coming up to Jeno, not yet sure of what to do, only obscurely aware of the way he buzzes with feelings, like they're on the brink of overwhelming him, knocking him down, and he needs to do something to prevent it from happening.

"No, I didn't," Jeno quickly denies. "Just left a few minutes before the end of the lecture." As usual, there is no hat on Jeno's head, no scarf around his neck and no gloves. Closing the doors behind himself, he starts rubbing his reddened hands against each other, before looking up at Kun. "Did something happen?" he asks, possibly sensing the tension.

Kun hesitates. "First of all, you should never leave early because of me," he starts. Jeno seems about to open his mouth and apologize, like it's in his habit, admit that Kun's right and he's wrong, and say that he's sorry. Only Kun keeps speaking so he can't interrupt him. "Second of all, dressing like that in this type of weather will get you really sick." Jeno nods his head. "You understand?"

Once again, Jeno opens his mouth and those small, thin lips of his part, slightly chapped with the cold, about to release one of his sweet, timid words of apology, about which he knows that they work magic on Kun. But then it doesn't happen. He doesn't say anything, because one second later there are Kun's lips pressing onto his, aggressively, and Kun's tongue is invading Jeno's mouth, and just as he's kissing Jeno, Kun realizes that it's the first time since the night they met at the bar, over a month ago. In a sudden wave of arousal, he pushes Jeno's chest until the man hits the closed door with his back and lets out a yelp, maybe of pain, or surprise, clearly unprepared for the scene about to unfold, aimlessly moving his arms before deciding to simply prop them against the door, unsure of whether he should touch Kun or exactly the opposite, refrain from doing that at all. Holding Jeno's chin with both hands, Kun tips his head up, decisively leading the kiss. All Jeno does is moan into it, sweet and responsive.

First question Kun asks when they finally stop to take a breath is, "Should I buy you gloves?"

And Jeno seems too confused to respond. When he tells Kun to repeat the question, his voice is tinged with hoarse arousal.

Kun's hands keep him in place, head pressed to the door. "Did you skip classes because of your other clients?"

Jeno slightly stirs under Kun's hands. "Why?" he breathes out. What he means is, why is Kun asking about it now?

Kun's lips are now moving down Jeno's neck. "You had other client, didn't you?" His hot breaths crush against Jeno's skin, and it's a strange sort of confidence which buzzes inside him as he kisses Jeno's Adam's apple, feeling him swallow, then sensing his pulse underneath the skin. When Jeno doesn't say anything, he insists, "More than fifteen?"

Jeno shakes his head no.

"More than ten?"

Once again, Jeno denies.

When Kun looks up at his face, Jeno's eyes are closed, and it seems like he still hasn't adopted a strategy, hasn't figured out how to react to this sudden change in Kun's behavior. His eyelashes flutter long and thick against his cheeks.

"Do you have other clients _now_?" Kun asks.

Jeno has to clear his throat before responding. "Yes," he confirms at last. And maybe under normal conditions, Kun would find that the opposite of attractive, maybe it would even sicken him, force him to take his hands off of Jeno, but right now, as he's angry and excited and tired and aroused, all of it at once, it only further turns him on.

"What do you do with them? When they call you to come over?"

When Jeno opens his eyes, they are dark and shiny, and it seems like part of him is already absent in their conversation when he musters all of his remaining strength to scan Kun's expression and on the basis of it, decide how to do respond. "Same things I do with you," he croaks and quickly clears his throat again.

"You eat pleasant dinners? You tell them compliments? Jerk off for them?"

Jeno nods at each question, at least to the extent he's capable of moving his head, with Kun's hands still holding his chin. His whole body remains pressed flat against the door, chest moving fast as he breathes. He looks into Kun's eyes and hesitates for a second, before finally saying, "And then they fuck me." He pauses. "Do you want to fuck me too?"

It's the tone of his voice, so skilfully mixing innocence and an experienced kind of sexual obedience, which causes Kun's cock to immediately fill out, bulging against Jeno's thigh. In a brief moment of reason, Kun takes one of his hands off of Jeno's chin and reaches down with it instead, to feel Jeno's erection, also throbbing between their bodies. Only once he confirms that Jeno wants it just as much as he does, he kisses him again, rough and needy, and this time Jeno's hands move to touch him back, swiftly wrapping themselves around Kun's waist.

"Go to my bedroom," Kun whispers into Jeno's open mouth. "And get naked."

It's all muscle memory, the way Jeno quickly rids himself of all of his clothes, in a well-practised sequence of moves. He yanks his hoodie off of his back, does the same with his t-shirt, then drops both in the hall, on his way to the bedroom, everything too quick to be considered a striptease. His belt falls at the entrance, buckle hitting the floorboard with an echo, then steps out of his pants, momentarily losing his balance. His underwear and socks are the last to join the mess of his clothes, and when Kun follows him into the bedroom, Jeno quickly sits down on the bed, completely naked, and stills, waiting.

Their roles are now reversed; it's Kun who's stripping and Jeno who's watching, and all that can be heard in the silence of Kun's apartment are the pieces of Kun's elegant suit falling to the floor and their mixed breathing, loud and desperate. Once they're both entirely naked, there comes a pause.

Kun walks to the bed and stands in front of Jeno, at an arm's length. Jeno doesn't reach to touch him, only watches, lifting one hand with a condom, as if wanting to pass it to Kun, alongside his consent. But Kun doesn't reach for it. "The lube's in the first drawer," he tells Jeno, motioning to the bedside table.

Jeno shakes his head. "I-- you know, I came prepared," he says, his voice sounding like it's on the verge of cracking.

Briefly, Kun thinks about Jeno stretching himself before their meeting, maybe before every single one of their meetings, just to be ready any time Kun would wish to fuck him, and it sends a whole new wave of arousal through his body. He comes up to Jeno and very slowly sits down on his lap. Jeno's hands are quick to hold his waist, like it's a reflex, but his eyes betray a kind of surprise you can't fake, no matter how much you practise. They grow big, pupils blown. He licks his lips but remains silent.

Kun leans down until his lips touch Jeno's ear. "I want _you_ to fuck _me_ ," he whispers.

They're both high on adrenaline, both shocked by how new and dizzying this situation feels, and yet, there's a slight resistance on Jeno's side. He's still looking into Kun's eyes when he asks, "Are you sure?"

In response, Kun presses his lips against Jeno's. Jeno moans into the kiss.

Once they both come, Jeno into the condom while inside Kun, Kun spilling on both of their chests, there's a longer pause. They're both lying on their backs, eyes on the ceiling, breathing. It's so quiet and serene after all the fast pounding that Jeno had the chance to show off. It's quiet and idyllic, and still feeling weak in his entire body, with all the pleasure and pain inflicted on it, Kun wants to turn to his side and look into Jeno's face, watching his sweaty face when he breathes. But he doesn't do it. And then, Jeno's voice is the first one to cut through the silence. Carefully, he asks, "Should I go now?"

Kun can't see Jeno's face and neither is Jeno looking at his, when he clears his throat and says, "What if you stayed longer?"

Two things change after they have sex that afternoon.

One thing is that now they do it on a regular basis, replacing Jeno's scheduled jerk-off session with a mutual search for pleasure. The second thing is that Jeno starts staying overnight.

He comes in the evening, after classes, and they eat dinner while having their usual noncomittal conversations, Jeno mentioning some events happening at college, Kun referring to his more interesting court cases. Once they finish, the action quickly moves to Kun's bedroom, where they spend the next couple of hours kissing, touching and exploring each others' bodies in ways which Kun has never done with anyone before, a completely new world of continuous experimentation and fulfilment. And when they wake up in the morning, after many of such busy nights, it's usually in each other's arms.

In two weeks time, Jeno even has his own toothbrush and towel in Kun's bathroom.

And then one Saturday morning, as Kun's just about to leave the bathroom, there comes a loud scream from the main hall, clearly belonging to a woman.

In her long fur coat and with a pair of round sunglasses on her nose, despite the season still being winter, Lua is standing at the entrance to Kun's apartment, the door hurriedly closed behind her back, and what she's looking at, and reacting with a quick, shocked scream, is Jeno's naked silhouette behind the kitchen counter.

Kun continues to button up his shirt as he joins the scene, emerging from behind the corner, and Jeno immediately searches for him with his eyes, not saying a word before Kun introduces him first. His light brown hair is wet, slicked back his head, and with his shiny, toned chest he looks like a tv advertisement for some kind of men's cosmetics, rather than someone to meet in Kun's apartment, preparing morning toasts.

As soon as Jeno dresses up and leaves, apologizing for the encounter, Lua's behavior changes. The initial shock is now gone, and sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of freshly made coffee, she begins to grin at Kun.

"If I was into men," she says, pointing behind her back as if Jeno was still with them in the apartment, "I would sure pay for this guy." Kun doesn't exactly react with amusement. "Come on. I'm just joking. He's an eye candy."

Once again, the corners of Kun's lips don't even twitch into a smile. He's standing there stiff, his back propped against a kitchen unit, stirring sugar into his hot coffee. Even though he did mention this whole situation to Lua, on a random occasion, over a bottle of wine, he did not intend to ever come back to it, or to have Lua actually meet Jeno. Somehow, he has always assumed that the next time she would bring up the topic of Kun's sugardating, if ever, Jeno would be long gone from Kun's life. That he would become just a funny story to remember about.

But no. She's just met Jeno and he's still very much part of Kun's daily routine.

"Come on," she starts again. "Don't say you wanted to keep him away from me forever. That's selfish."

"Very funny," Kun replies at last.

She's still smiling. "You're complaining about _my_ reaction? Imagine what would happen if _Johnny_ knew about that. He wouldn't let you live."

Just the thought of Johnny knowing about how Kun spends money on sex has him shaking his head in denial. "You can't ever tell him," he says, repeating the exact same words he's already said a few weeks ago.

Lua raises her both hands, palms out. "You know you can trust me," she reminds me. "It's been what? Five years? And Johnny still doesn't know how much you want to suck his dick."

Kun takes a sharp breath in. He puts his coffee cup on the unit behind his back and runs his hand over his face. "Lua."

"Kun," she mimics him, audibly amused. "Johnny's not hiding in any of your closets. He hasn't bugged your apartment. It's just the two of us and you can say how much you love his peachy ass all you want."

There's a bitter wince passing through Kun's face. "Thanks."

"No problem." She smiles with all of her pearly teeth. "About your new cutie, though. You know what I have to tell you. As your best friend." She licks her spoon dry and uses it to point at Kun, about to recite one of her _I care for your well-being_ speeches. "Fuck them but don't get attached to them. You never know what they are up to. I've heard enough stories already."

The next time Kun meets Joohyun, their dynamics are reversed.

Waving a bunch of documents, it's Joohyun who comes talk to Kun, and it's Joohyun who speaks with agitation, as Kun listens, without interrupting her, his lips on a plastic cup of coffee.

"You want to take this to trial? What's the fairy land you're coming from?" she snaps. "Your client threw a cinderblock through his neighbor's window and I have two witnesses."

Kun barely stirs at her words. He sips on the coffee and keeps walking down the corridor as Joohyun follows him along. "Six months probation. No jail," he insists.

Joohyun releases a loud sigh of annoyance and it's very unlike her usual self. Kun can notice the change of her character in many details, one of which being the way Joohyun's hair looks dishevelled, instead of perfectly straight, and patted down, as if she's been brushing it every other minute. "What even makes you think you could win this?"

Kun shrugs. They stop before the staircase. "Kid made a statement before he was mirandized. The evidence is based on it and you know it."

There's a pause. Joohyun's eyes blink quickly, then grow wider, like it's hard for her to accept that Kun may be right. "Cinderblock. Two witnesses."

"When I let the judge know, your case is dead on arrival."

"Kun. We don't have the time for that."

Kun lifts his plastic cup of coffee, as if he's making a toast. " _You_ don't have the time. I'm a business lawyer. I have two banks as my clients and all the time in the world to prevent a twenty-one-year-old from rotting in jail for something so trivial."

Most often than not it starts with Kun alone on the bed, watching.

He's still wearing his office clothes, the same charcoal grey suit he had in court and at the law firm, only now crumpled and with the tie loosely hanging around Kun's neck, exhibiting signs of being gripped on and tugged, played with as they kissed right at the entrance to the apartment. Kun's lying on his back, propped up on his elbows, and he's looking straight ahead.

Standing in front of the bed is Jeno, now in the process of peeling his t-shirt off, letting the fabric slowly slide up his taut stomach muscles, toned chest, before carelessly tossing in on the floor. Whatever he's doing, he acts of his own volition, with no prompting on Kun's part, not even a prior discussion. At this point in their relationship, after months of practice and experiment, he knows exactly what to do to drive Kun crazy, skilfully fitting all the elements into a well thought-out elaborate performance. He makes a show out of unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, then takes his sweet time ridding himself of his pants, letting them pool around his ankles, stepping out of them. All that in slow motion, purposely making Kun wait. Teasing him.

And only once he's standing there, naked save for his underwear, there comes a pause during which Kun knows that it's his time to speak. That it's Kun time to give him directions.

"Come closer," he tells him to, and when Jeno walks up to the bed, Kun nods his head appreciatively. There is something especially attractive about having a man so tall, well-built and capable of strength showing so much restraint and submission, and it never ceases to amaze Kun. "Take it off. Everything."

As Jeno's standing up so close, his crotch is at an arm's length from Kun, and he could easily reach and do it himself, but instead, he allows Jeno to continue the performance. Jeno tugs at the waistband of his boxers and lets his cock spring outside, proving to Kun just how hard he gets by merely stripping for him.

"Crawl on the bed," Kun says the moment Jeno's boxers fall to the floor, and he hears his voice drop significantly lower, hoarse with arousal. Jeno presses his knees on the bed, letting the mattress dip under his weight, then puts his both hands on the sheets, a few leather bracelets still on his one wrist, and he slowly begins to move, like a well-trained dog, eyes never leaving Kun's face. He crawls on the bed, as far as the bed's size allows him to, and Kun watches his cock hang heavy between his legs.

"Do you want me to undress you?" Jeno asks when he stops by Kun's side, on all fours, looking down on him. His words are not an attempt at hurrying things up, but rather an expression of desire to be given the kind of control that would allow him to see and touch every part of Kun's body.

But that's not Kun's plan for the night.

He takes a moment to respond and Jeno's eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration, giving him a sexy look that borders on irritation. "I'll stay dressed," he decides. A glint enters Jeno's eyes, suspicious and excited. "You come here and rub on my leg. I want you to get my suit dirty with your precome."

He can hear the way Jeno takes a sharp breath in through his nose. In bedroom, Kun's suit remains a symbol of his position. His suit says that he's a lawyer. That he's the one one with the money. And perhaps it never stops to be turn-on for both of them.

Jeno crawls closer and straddles his leg. He begins to roll his hips and just as Kun's imagined it, even in the dim light of the bedroom, he can see the stain appearing on the charcoal grey fabric.

Sometimes Kun thinks about the ability Jeno has of bringing this level of confidence out of Kun. How he makes Kun perfectly capable of speaking like this, moving like this, doing all this to Jeno.

"Do you want me to come like this?" Jeno asks, once his breathing becomes much more shallow, indicating how he's slowly approaching his release. His voice is focused, serious. He stops rhythmically humping Kun's thigh and waits.

Kun swallows. Once again, the next instruction is ready on the tip of his tongue, and it's only this feeling of surprise, at his own confidence, and his own kinky ideas, that delays his words. "I want you to fuck me with the suit on," he reveals to Jeno. Then, for the first time since he positioned himself on the bed, he moves. He picks the condoms and lube from the bedside table and tosses them onto the bed, looking into Jeno's eyes. "Flip me on my stomach and pull my pants down," he says. "Other than that, the suit stays on. Can you do it for me?"

And Jeno knows that he has to nod his head to confirm that he understands. Confirm that he's a smart boy and can follow the orders. The view sets Kun's whole body on fire. He shifts on the bed, leans forward and takes Jeno's face in his hands, kissing him on the lips, a strong kiss that leaves no room for power struggle. Jeno moans into Kun's mouth, surrendering.

The moment their faces part, that's when Jeno starts his next performance. He strokes his cock once, pulls the condom on and covers it with lube, all that under Kun's vigilant eye, allowing the man to step in any moment and tell him to do it better. Come on, Jeno. You can do better than that. Impress me. I pay for you. You have to always impress me.

They exchange one last knowing look in the eyes and that's when Jeno puts his hands on Kun. Buckle, fly, then he pulls Kun's pants down, just far enough down Kun's legs, and manipulates his body in a few powerful moves, toppling him down onto the mattress, so sudden a movement that the whole bed shakes. Kun has his one cheek pressed onto the sheets and his eyes are closed when Jeno prepares him, but he keeps talking, a string of, "Just like this. Yes. Add another one. Yes, that's good. Now another one," because Jeno always takes too long, is too thorough and too careful. Once Kun hurries him up and Jeno enters him in one smooth motion, their bodies are finally pressed tight together, Jeno's chest to Kun's back, his naked body to Kun's suit jacket. Jeno doesn't move. He leans closer and presses his lips to Kun's ear. A moment's hesitation. Kun feels Jeno's heartbeat between his shoulderblades. "God, you're so beautiful," Jeno pants.

The words send a shudder through Kun's body and he reflexively clenches around Jeno.

Jeno releases a hot breath against Kun's cheek, but still doesn't move. He's acting bold. He's teasing him. Now it's his turn. "What do you want me to do?" he asks, breathless and desperate to buck his hips, but stopping himself, too determined to miss the chance to ask his favourite question. "What should I do, Mr Qian?"

And at the sound of Jeno's deferential tone, Kun clenches even stronger. "Just fuck me," he moans. "Fuck me already."

And Jeno follows the order.

And then it's another Saturday morning and they're both in the kitchen area, freshly grinded coffee and butter melting on the hot toasts. Sitting opposite to Jeno, Kun watches him mix the melted butter with honey as he keeps speaking. They're both wearing only the pyjama bottoms, and Jeno's naked chest constitutes the most pleasant part of Kun's mornings.

"So I called her aunt. Then her neighbor. And when I knew where she was, I just went to pick her up and drive her to the court." Jeno makes an amazed expression, which is only his eyes growing bigger, because there's a toast between his lips, honey leaking between his fingers and onto the plate. "I wouldn't let her skip bail. That would have terrible consequences on her record."

Having said that, Kun smiles at himself, and that's how Jeno knows that he won the trial. Having concluded the story, Kun picks up his coffee and takes a mouthful. There's a pause, in which Jeno finishes his toast and Kun asks if he should get him another one. He shakes his head no. He hesitates and then asks Kun, "But why do you do it?"

Kun rolls his eyes, rather playfully. "Just told you. Skipping bail is the worst thing you can do."

Jeno corrects him. "I mean, in general." When Kun still looks like he doesn't understand the question, Jeno promptly adds, "You know. Those criminal cases. You said you were specialised in banking. You work for a law firm. Why do you do it?"

As much as the question annoyed him when he heard it from Johnny, months ago, it's much different coming from Jeno. Thinking of a response, Kun feels relaxed and slightly excited. The whole kitchen area is filled with light coming through the ceiling-high windows, and Jeno's skin seems to glisten in it, a stark contrast with how last night they had sex with merely one bedside lamp on.

"It's... you know," Kun pauses, looking for the right words, "satisfying to help people. Not companies."

Jeno smiles, then chuckles. "Wow. Just when I thought you were one of those soulless money-making lawyers."

Chuckling as well, Kun waves a hand, as if denying a compliment. "I'm still one them eighty percent of my work time."

Jeno hums, and there's a familiar sparkle coming into his eyes, playful and sexy. "You need the money to afford me," he reminds Kun. "So that excuses you." And even though under normal conditions, Kun wouldn't like being reminded of Jeno's monthly rate and of all the money he has already spent on mornings like this one, this time nothing can disturb his peace. In the bright kitchen, with Jeno right in front of him, radiating confidence and comfort, Kun can't be worked up over anything. Even the next subject Jeno brings up, rather innocently, not expecting for it to mean much, "Hey, I was thinking... Last night when we were having sex, you called me some else's name, you know?"

Unbothered, Kun reaches for the moka pot, pouring himself more coffee. "I did?" he asks, almost amused by this information.

Seeing Kun's calm reaction, Jeno continues. "Johnny? Who's that? An ex of yours?"

Kun shrugs his shoulders. He moves the pot towards Jeno, asking if he wants more, but Jeno shakes his head no. "More like.. an unfulfilled one-sided love," he tells Jeno.

"Let me guess. He's straight."

"More like... unaware. Not that if he _was_ aware, that would change much. We work together at the law firm. It would make things awkward between us anyway."

"Ouch."

There's a pause and Kun feels Jeno's stare on himself, heavy with attention and scrutiny. They don't say a word and it's Kun who breaks the silence. "Let's talk about something else," he proposes.

Jeno smiles. "Something like what?"

"Like how I want you to deepthroat me while I call you your real name."


	3. Chapter 3

Kun's life now follows a packed schedule.

In the mornings, he's at the law firm, negotiating terminology on the documents he's preparing for his two banks. For lunch, he goes to a restaurant with Lua, and sometimes Johnny joins them too, acting as if by accident, like he had a meeting planned with someone else but then it got cancelled so he may as well go with them. Sometimes, Johnny pops up to Kun's office too. He asks about the weekend and each week Kun comes up with another excuse, a reason why he's so busy he can't go to the bar. Then, in the afternoons, he's at the courthouse, slipping coins into the coffee machine, bothering Joohyun during her free time between the trials and rehearsing the strategies with his clients. He tells them how to dress to look convincingly remorseful, and pats them on the back when they seem dispirited, and even if it's another case of "man throws pee at his boss", it's still satisfying. It's a hands-on job.

And then on Fridays, he drives to pick Jeno up from college.

It's a new thing that they do. He parks the car two blocks away and waits for Jeno to appear on the horizon. Jeno throws his sports bag on the back seat, takes the passenger seat himself and they drive home talking, no more awkwardness in their words, and no more exaggerated servitude in Jeno's behavior. And maybe the only reminder of the kind of relationship that they have is the regular payment Kun makes at the start of each month, holding the envelope in his hands as he playfully asks Jeno to strip for him.

And then they have sex.

It's almost one pm and they're still lying in bed.

The day's a cloudy one and it doesn't even make sense getting up to do anything. Kun has his back propped against the bed's headboard as he sits with Jeno's head resting on his chest, his body still tucked under the sheets, caramel hair sticking out into all directions. It's one of those lazy morning conversations that seem more like a stream of loosely connected thoughts and questions often left unanswered, like they didn't matter in the first place.

Kun's fingers are playing with Jeno's hair strands, when he asks the question that maybe he should have some time ago. "Was it weird when I told you to jerk off? The first time."

The atmosphere is too relaxed for the mention of one of their first encounters to spoil it, and Jeno's reaction is merely a chuckle, which causes a hot breath to tickle Kun's stomach. "You surprised me but I liked it."

"I surprised you?"

"I mean..." Kun can see it in Jeno's face how he tries to remember the details of that night, his eyebrows slightly furrowing, but in a very charming way. "You took me off-guard. I didn't expect you to be this... demanding."

Kun hums in response. If it's an invitation to shameless flirt and Jeno now expects to receive a compliment too, Kun doesn't respond to it. There's something else on his mind. "What's the weirdest thing you did with a client then?" he asks, all of a sudden.

When Jeno laughs, his head stirs on Kun's chest. "You don't want to know."

Kun furrows his eyebrows, pretending to be offended. "I actually do," he insists, looking down at Jeno. "Especially now."

There's the usual light coming into Jeno's eyes, like whenever he's challenged to do something. "With all the details?"

"With all the details."

"You know my clients are usually older, right?"

As much as their pool of topics to talk about has become much larger over the course of last several months, they still haven't talked much about Jeno's work. And his other clients. And Kun finds himself curious to find out more. "How much older?"

Jeno checks Kun's expression and only seeing that Kun remains, he continues, still in a joking tone. "So old that a more proper term would be _sugar grandpas_."

Rather than finding it off-putting, Kun lets out a laugh. " _That_ is your usual clientèle?"

Jeno lifts himself up from Kun's chest and props himself on his elbows, arms crossed on the grey sheets matching the rest of Kun's grey bedroom. "You don't realize how common this is."

"Niche market ready to be conquered?"

Jeno pretends to slap him on the arm. "You laugh but it's actually convenient. I don't even have to have sex with these guys. They just like _being around me_."

Kun nods his head, acting as if it was a new piece of information for him to absorb. "Never thought of that."

Jeno gives him another fake slap and this time, Kun lifts his both hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender.

Jeno pretends to accept this apology, and then says, "But you asked about the weird guys. There was one."

"What did he do to achieve this title?"

"Can I call it Santa Claus role-playing?" When Kun blinks his eyes in confusion, Jeno continues. "You know, he would dress up in a Santa suit and ask me to sit on his lap. Then he would ask me what I want for Christmas, give me a lollipop and ask me to suck him off." This finally has Kun frowning, and it makes Jeno giggle. "It wasn't _that_ weird, really. "

"Not that weird?"

Jeno sits up completely. "I would just..." He shakes the sheets off of his body and, wearing just a pair of pyjama bottoms, proceeds to stride Kun's lap. "I would sit like this. And I would act."

Kun's frown doesn't cease. "You mean by that?"

Perhaps there's a blush showing up on Jeno's neck, but the slight embarrassment doesn't stop him from continuing the performance. The most notable thing to change is his posture. In one second, his body seems to assume a smaller size, almost curling itself around Kun, and as he starts innocently fidgeting with his hands, Kun immediately gets it. "I've been a good boy," Jeno says, sweetness overfilling his voice.

Kun takes a sharp intake of breath, before he eventually begins to laugh. "Okay. I get it. You can stop now."

Still half in the act, Jeno looks up at him and smiles. "You really don't want me to go on?" he makes sure, in an innocent tone. His one hand reaches towards Kuns crotch. "It doesn't turn you on?"

Kun laughs again. His both hands are now pressed on the bed for stablization, on either side of his body, as Jeno moves on his lap. "No. Really. It's not necessary."

Jeno lets out a satisfied chuckle, before simply leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Kun's lips, the way only a confident grown-up lover could do, and not a childish character to play in bed. They're kissing for a longer moment and Kun's hand moves up to Jeno's hair, petting him and scratching, and once their lips part, he looks into Jeno's shiny eyes with one question on his mind, which maybe has always been there, always bugging him.

"Why do you do this?" It's so unexpected, spoken with such an intense honesty, and causes such an abrupt change in atmosphere that both of them seem just as surprised by hearing it. Jeno's facial expression changes diametrically; his eyebrows move up his forehead and his eyes grow bigger, and Kun quickly rephrases his words. "I mean. You don't mind all this?"

Same day in the evening, Kun can't help the idea that has always been stuck in back of his mind but only now surfaces, reaching to his tongue.

"What if I paid you more?" he asks, out of the blue. "Would you be exclusive for me then?"

He can see how the words make Jeno stir, an immediately shudder, before he turns towards Kun with an expression on his face which is hard to read. "Kun."

"You won't have to meet these other men. Just tell me how much I need to make up for them."

There's a pause and Kun can see that Jeno hesitates, before finally saying, "This isn't a good idea."

And maybe it's in this moment, seemingly unimportant and leading nowhere, during this exact short exchange by the end of which Jeno distances himself from Kun and establishes a clear boundary, not to be trespassed by either of them, it slowly starts dawning on Kun that whatever Lua said about getting attached, how that's a bad thing and he shouldn't let it happen, he's already let it happen.

At the law firm, Johnny annoys Kun with double his usual force.

He follows him around after the conference, then third wheels at Kun's lunch with Lua. He appears in Kun's office and sits on Kun's desk, pushing a perfectly arranged stack of documents. He asks if they're going to the bar this weekend and it makes Kun realize that they haven't gone out for so long now. But he says no and Johnny leans forward, towards his face. In this pose, the leg of his suit pants strains around his thick thigh. "What about staying home?" he proposes, with audibly less enthusiasm but just as much determination. "We can get some food ordered," he keeps going. "Lay on the sofa, watch some basketball. Like two best buddies."

But Kun still says no. And there's no malice in his denial. He just simply doesn't have the time for Johnny in his packed schedule of meetings with Jeno.

Only as Kun should know, things never fully go away when you push them away. The gravity brings them right back, with double the force of your push.

So even though Kun no longer visits bars with Johnny, he does go to some with Jeno by his side. It's all part of some prolonged foreplay, in which Jeno, all dolled up in his sleeveless t-shirt, with muscles shining in the bar's lights and hair pushed back with pomade, walks to the bar and orders drinks for both of them, attracting the attention of quite a few men, before coming back to Kun. He puts the glasses down, leans over their table for two and kisses Kun on the lips, hoping that some of the men in the club are still staring.

That's what they do now. Every now and then.

Until one night they're sitting at their usual table for two, a glass of wine for Kun and a glass of whisky with cola for Jeno, and all of a sudden, there's a shade on Kun's silhouette, blocking the bouncy violet lights. It's like he knows who that's going to be before he even raises his eyes.

Johnny standing in front of their table in an elegant black shirt stretching over his chest, first four buttons undone in a way that makes it look more like he's rushing to open the door to the delivery man after taking a shower, rather than trying to boost his sex appeal. He's holding a glass of whisky in his one hand, a silver watch shiny around his wrist, and he says, "Would you look at that."

Jeno glances at Kun, than back at Johnny, and Kun feels his whole body grow colder with every second. He opens his mouth, but Johnny keeps talking.

"No. It's fine," he says, shrugging, pretending like he doesn't mind being lied to. "At least now I know what you're up to when you say you can't go out because you're very busy." Once again, Kun's about to say something, but Johnny shushes him, softly. "I would be busy too, if I was you." He meaningfully motions with his head towards Jeno.

And that, that has Kun sharply breathe through his nose. When he glances at Jeno, Jeno sits still, awaiting any explanation or instruction on how to act around someone who clearly knows Kun.

With his one free hand, Johnny reaches for a chair from a nearby table and pulls it to theirs, sitting down with its back between his legs, folding his arms on top. "It's fine, Kun. I forgive you," he jokes, and Kun knows perfectly well what he means by that. I forgive you because just look at this handsome young man, so totally Johnny's type.

Jeno clears his throat and Kun has no other option but to introduce them. "This is Jeno," he says.

Johnny smiles at Jeno and Kun sees the exact moment in which Johnny's face assumes the usual _I want to fuck you_ expression. "Hi, Jeno."

Now Kun points at Johnny, saying, "This is my friend, John."

And then. There's a pause. When Jeno looks at Kun, his eyes light up. "Johnny?"

In the morning, there's a palpable tension in the kitchen, the moment Jeno comes out of the bathroom, after taking a shower and drying his hair. He has an oversized shirt on his chest, which makes him seem smaller, and he comes up to the kitchen island, putting both hands on top, right beside the envelope with money. It's the first day of the month.

Their conversation with Johnny didn't even last that long, but once they got rid of him and took a taxi back to Kun's apartment, they remained silent, barely exchanging any words, up until now.

Kun feels Jeno's eyes on himself, as he prepares a cup of coffee, with his back to Jeno.

"Can we talk?" Jeno asks him. His voice is quiet, docile. And it definitely shouldn't have the effect on Kun which it has.

When Kun turns around to face the man, his eyebrows are furrowed and the same anger that has been there last night, now slowly grows stronger inside him. "What do you want to talk about?"

Jeno shrugs his shoulders. "You know what." His both hands are still propped on the kitchen island and he hasn't picked up the money yet, which he usually does very fast, as if not wanting for it to spoil the illusion of their relationship being natural. The money's sexy when Jeno's sucking Kun's dick for it. That's when they both like to bring it up. But not in the morning when they're both slightly hungover and supposed to have a pleasant breakfast, pretending like they're boyfriends or some shit. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kun feels a tide of irrational bitterness rise inside him. He's been trying not to bring this subject up ever since last night, but if Jeno's asking about it so insistently, why shouldn't Kun start talking. "What... were you thinking," he asks, "acting like this around Johnny?"

Jeno takes his hands off the island, straightening his back. "Acting how?" His voice is now serious.

Kun takes a breath in. He's holding his cup of coffee while he runs one hand over his messy morning hair. "Like, I don't know. Like _this_." He makes a vague movement with his hand.

Jeno's eyes turn into slits. He's aware of the tension and he's no longer actively trying to minimize it. "Like what?" Kun doesn't say. "Like your boyfriend? I didn't hear you tell Johnny that you pay to fuck me."

"Christ."

Jeno hasn't finished speaking. His whole body, underneath the thin fabric of the oversized shirt, it looks tense, and the way the tone of his voice changes, almost startles Kun. He's never heard Jeno talk like this. "If you wanted me to act any specific way around your Johnny, you could have told me."

Kun's attention focuses on one detail. "It's not _my_ Johnny."

Jeno's frown deepens. "Then why is it such a big deal?" He pauses and gives Kun the time to answer, a last chance to backpedal, but Kun doesn't say a word. Jeno crosses his arms, looking away. "God. Just. I don't know. Go ask him out. Finally hook up with him so you can stop wasting money on me."

Again, the money. It's still lying on the kitchen island. The money which is all that holds them together.

"You need to speak less," he tells Jeno.

"As long as you keep paying me, you can have me say nothing at all."

Pause. Thoughts quickly rushing through his head, Jeno puts his coffee down and walks up to the kitchen island. "I don't even mean: you flirted with me in front of him. I mean: you flirted _with him_."

And that, it makes Jeno's eyes grow bigger again as he blinks in surprise. "I did what?"

Kun releases a laugh that's almost scornful. "God. Maybe you don't even realize when you do it. How you just-- _fuck_ , how you approach any man around you. Like you want to please him."

"And get into his wallet, huh? That's what you want to say?" Once again, Jeno's eyes are the thinnest lines, pupils barely visible, eyebrows furrowed, and he's looking at Kun with the kind of coldness Kun wouldn't even have imagined the man be capable of. He's hurt. And angry. And he isn't going to let it all slide. "I didn't flirt with him," he says. "But sure. Go ahead. Call me a slut who just can't control his instincts in front of rich guys."

Kun sucks a sharp breath in. "I didn't say it."

"Of course you didn't _say it_. You just think it. You're too much of a nice guy to tell that into my face."

"Jeno."

Jeno untangles his arms and lets them drop on either side of his body, almost lifelessly. "Don't... look down on me," he tells Kun, in a voice about which Kun can't explain what emotion it contains anymore, or who is it directed towards. "You're literally paying me to fuck you like you wish your best friend would because you don't have the balls to ask him to do it himself. Here. I said it."

It hits Kun in his weakest spot and stings so painfully, Kun finds himself at a loss for words, silently watching Jeno pick the envelope from the kitchen island before throwing it in Kun's direction. This, it makes no sense at all. This Jeno makes no sense. The envelope falls onto the grey flooring of the kitchen and some of the banknotes escape, floating in the air around Kun's legs. "I'm done playing Johnny for you."

The next few days, everything in Kun's life slows down.

The quiet is back in his apartment and at work. In court, he no longer feels the rush of power while working on a case, and as his ego goes back to its normal size, what also returns is Kun's rational thinking. He becomes what he thinks is his normal self. He's focused, calculated. Someone who isn't always thinking about whatever waits for him at home.

Johnny, however, has the opposite impression.

Once again, he walks into Kun's office, right before the lunch break, as if nothing that happened at the bar had any meaning to him, like Jeno was just a nobody and their exchange carried no signifiance whatsover. He locks the door behind himself, so that none of Kun's associates would barge in, and he comes up to Kun's desk, placing his two fists on its surface, in a way mimicking Jeno.

"Kun. What is going on with you lately?" he asks.

Kun has little to no energy for arguments like this. "What is going on with me?" he asks, not understanding but also too uncaring to understand.

"We met in the bar. I know your secret and the guy you hook up with. But you still don't want to talk to me." Johnny's face looks untypically serious. "Now Lua tells me you're thinking about leaving the firm. Are you crazy? Working here was your goddamned dream."

In a split second, Kun feels his whole body heat up. Because even though Johnny's right, and it has _always_ been Kun's dream to become a business lawyer, and leaving the firm was just a stupid idea that popped to his mind and he casually mentioned it to Lua, it's the tone of Johnny's voice, so overly confident, like he knows Kun better than Kun knows himself, which makes him boil with a sudden anger.

Eyebrows furrowed, he throws Johnny an accusatory glance. "How do _you_ know what my dreams are?"

Johnny immediately chooses to ignore this question. "Listen," he starts from scratch, as if Kun hasn't started listening to him properly yet. Like he had to listen better. Everybody focus. Johnny has something to say. Kun feels his guts turn in his stomach. "I know we haven't spoken much lately. And I know you're busy with this new guy - Lua told me about him - but, I mean, who is he really to you? Is it _him_ who's making you act so weird?"

Kun's silhouette freezes in alert, but, on the inside, a seismic wave of fury rushes through his body. Johnny's always been incapable of reading Kun's reactions, but it's almost like he's now intentionally doing every single thing in his power to further drive Kun to the edge.

Kun reaches for any thought that buzzes in his mind and what finally comes out of his mouth is, "You don't even know him."

Johnny waves his hand, dismissively. Whatever Kun says, it's inconsequential. It doesn't matter. "Listen to me," Johnny demands again. "I know something's wrong. I know _you_. I've known you for years."

And this, this is too much.

Suddenly reminded of just how long he's been stuck in this miserable situation, unable to express his feelings and face the possible rejection, instead bottling it all up inside while watching Johnny hook up with just about anybody who even blinks in his direction, anybody but Kun himself, he feels the frustration overfill him. There are no more words to say, no more arguments to present. He's no longer going to approach it like some delicate and complex court case with a lot of circumstantial evidence to take into account. Instead, he just lets go of control. He allows his body to act on its own accord because there is no point reasoning with Johnny anymore, or subtly hinting that there may be more about Kun than meets the eye, or treating Johnny like some inexperienced client who needs to be taken care of. Instead of all that, Kun takes a step forward, closes his eyes and in one quick move, lands his lips on Johnny's. And then--

Johnny's body doesn't move.

He doesn't push Kun away but also doesn't respond to his kiss. He just stands there, frozen to the spot, doing absolutely nothing, barely even breathing, which inactiveness is so unlike Johnny's usual self, so unlike his behavior with any other man Kun has seen him talk to, it's almost comical.

And Kun, finally able to experience the soft touch of Johnny's plushy, heart-shaped lips, and the initial taste of his mouth, he realizes that, in contrast to all he has ever imagined, it makes him feel... nothing.

All that has been torturing him for years has now evaporated from his body.

Johnny makes him feel _nothing_.

He takes his lips off, then takes his hand away and smoothes his tie instead. Johnny doesn't say a word, and neither does Kun, and it's like for the first time ever, in the whole history of their friendship, Kun has officially won an argument.

And then he simply leaves his office.

"I can't believe it," Lua says with mock amazement. "You're finally home."

She walks into Kun's apartment, and closing the door behind her, Kun makes a face like he doesn't understand what she means.

"You can't play this game with me," she quickly scolds him. "I've been here yesterday. You slept in the office, didn't you?" The tone of her voice makes her sound like a disappointed parent who just caught their child doing something inappropriate. She turns to Kun, looks him in the eyes and immediately knows the answer. "You really did this. You slept at work _again_."

Kun shrugs. "It's called _being dedicated_."

"It's called being fucked up." She extends her arm and pushes a paper bag with a bunch of plastic containers in it. She doesn't say a word and Kun doesn't thank her in any more profuse way than a nod of his head. She's been bringing him food for more than two weeks now, very clearly willing to baby him when necessary.

She takes off her coat and throws it on the empty armchair which for some reason stands in the hall even though nobody ever sits on it. Like most things in Kun's apartment, it was part of the interior designer's original vision, whose functionality Kun never bothered to question. Things like empty vases with nothing inside or photo frames with the stock photos still inside, of random models smiling to the camera and pretending be a family. Kun just never cared about these things.

As if seeing this place for the first time, Lua takes a deep breath in. She's standing in front of one of the photo frames, that with a stock photo of an arctic deer. "No wonder you don't want to spend time here," she says.

"Thanks."

She slaps him on his arm. "If you keep sleeping at the firm, I'll stop bringing you food," she threatens as they walk into the kitchen area.

Even at home, on a Saturday afternoon, Kun's dressed up in a suit, the only missing element of his usual court outfit being the tie. He picks out one plastic container and brings it to the microwave. In the meantime, Lua sits at the kitchen island, observing him in silence. It takes three minutes to heat up the food and when Kun brings it out and closes the microwave, only then does Lua speak up again.

"How are you doing, though? Honestly?" Her voice is now changed. She sounds concerned and Kun doesn't know why.

"I'm doing great," he replies at once. He stands by the kitchen unit, propping his butt against it and holding the container by his mouth as he uses the chopsticks to put the food into his mouth. Lua doesn't say anything more and Kun feels the pressure to elaborate. "No more Johnny. No more sugar boys. Just me and my clients. It's perfect."

"Stop pretending like you enjoy it."

"No, I do enjoy it. I'm finally free. I have nothing to distract me from the one thing I truly love, which is my job." His words make Lua frown. "Of course I'm happy."

"Bullshit." She pauses, and it seems like she strongly hesitates over whatever she's about to say next. "Kun. I've seen Jeno."

It's been more than two weeks now that Kun hasn't heard this name, but he makes sure not to stir and not to do anything conspicuous at the sound of it. "Why are you telling me this?" is all he asks.

"I saw him at work." She then quickly corrects herself. "Not _this job_. I think he got hired at a café." Kun doesn't react. "Say something."

"Why?

"Because I can't let you... be like this."

"Lua. I'm not like anything."

"Listen. When you told me what happened you were drunk and crying. And I had never seen you like this before." Kun feels his neck heat up at the vague memory of that night and whatever he told his friend about Jeno, Johnny and all this mess. But that's in the past. There's no point coming back to it. The decision has been made and can't be changed, like in some cases it makes no sense to appeal to the court. "I know you have problems expressing your feelings--"

"Lua, please." He puts the plastic container on the counter behind his back and crosses his arms on his chest. "I ended a sponsoring deal. This is all that happened."

"You fell in _love_."

Kun audibly sucks a breath in. "Why does it matter if I fell in love with him?" he retorts. "Lua. This is what he does. Every single one of his sponsors falls in love with him. It's supposed to work like this." He says these words with the kind of finality to them which makes Lua wince, like she's just been physically hurt.

And then. A long pause.

Kun comes up to the kitchen island and sits down, covering his face with both hands as he thinks.

"So you're not gonna go talk to him?" There is no more pressure in Lua's voice, only soft worry.

"I don't know. I feel so stupid."

Kun has probably never felt more ashamed in his life. Not even when watching the video evidence of his _pro bono_ clients which clearly showed them as guilty of absolutely inexcusable deeds.

He's parked his business car a block away from the college grounds, around the time he remembered Jeno finish his Monday classes before. He couldn't call him because Jeno has already blocked his phone number, and trying to catch him at this one place he knew he could be was the only remaining option. And so he's sitting in the car, feeling ashamed and like the biggest creep on the planet, trying to stalk his ex sugar boy. This is now how he imagined his life to go.

And maybe he's slowly losing his hope, and the sudden boost of desperation, which forced him into the car in the first place, is slowly being drained from his body with each passing second, when then, _he_ appears on the horizon. In his stupid red winter jacket, with no hat and no scarf and just a pair of headphones on, a sports bag stretching across his chest. Kun's hands become sweaty on the driving wheel. He takes the key out of the ignition and quickly jumps out of the car, anxiously fixing his coat and the suit underneath it. He starts walking forward, right towards Jeno, and he knows the exact moment Jeno notices him, his eyebrows rising. He comes to a halt, and only when Kun approaches him, he takes his hands out of the pockets of his winter jacket and pushes the headphones off. He looks... displeased. Kun feels his insides take a leap.

" _This_ is why I never tell where I live and where I study to guys like _you_." Jeno's first words are spoken in the same cold and gruff tone of voice that he used during their last argument. When Kun comes closer, Jeno's eyes quickly scan their surroundings for any fellow students, like he's embarrassed they would see him with someone like Kun.

"I didn't come here to make a scene," Kun quickly says. "I just want to talk to you. Give me ten minutes. Please."

They go to Kun's car. A familiar environment, only Kun doesn't turn on the ignition and they don't drive right to Kun's apartment, and Jeno doesn't throw his sports bag to the back seat and doesn't fasten his seat belt. Instead, they sit still, looking straight ahead of them, at the street. The atmosphere is even worse than Kun could have imagined it while imagining the worst possible scenario.

He clears his throat, suddenly forgetting everything he meant to tell Jeno. Everything about how much he missed him, how much he wants him back, and how he may be in love with him and doesn't know what to do with this surreal fact.

Instead, all he lets out is, "I talked to Johnny."

Jeno looks Kun in the eyes like he can't be serious. "Oh wow. Should I congratulate you?"

Kun shakes his head. The moment he starts speaking again, his words are so fast, they're stumbling over each other. "You just-- you made me realize that I had to come clean about this to him at last, and so I did it, you know. Of course nothing came out of this, but--"

That's where Jeno stops him. "Nothing came out of this," he repeats. "That's why you're back to square one?"

The square one, as Kun can read from Jeno's tone, is being back to paying a sugar boy to satisfy his sexual needs. The accusation makes the blood in Kun's veins grow cold. "Jeno. Let me explain."

"No, it's fine. I get it. Sucks for you, though, because I'm no longer offering my services to you." The moment he tries to open the door and jump out of the car, he's stopped by Kun's hand shooting out to clamp around Jeno's wrist.

"Wait."

Jeno looks back at him and there's disappointment in his eyes.

Once again, Kun doesn't know what to say, completely paralysed by Jeno's stare. Out of all the thoughts that rush through his head, he picks out one and spontaneously decides to go with it. "I didn't react like this because I thought you flirted with Johnny." Jeno grows visibly frustrated by this memory. "I was jealous because of how Johnny flirted with _you_. And how it reminded me of all the other clients you had..."

He's about to keep going, blabbing out whatever embarrassing words come on his tongue, only Jeno silences him with a sharp look in his eyes. "Kun," he says, and Kun's name sounds so beautiful in his voice, even when he's being scolded. "There were no other clients. I dropped them all."

Kun blinks his eyes. "But you said--"

"I lied." Looking away, Jeno shakes his head, like it's something he can't believe he actually did and now he feels ashamed of it. "I dropped them all because I realized how much I preferred seeing you instead."

And _this_. Kun can hardly believe what he hears. "Jeno..."

Jeno looks up at him, as if in an instinctive reaction to Kun calling him by his name, but also like he really needs to look in Kun's eyes before he says whatever he's about to. "That's why I can't work for you anymore. I think I fell in love with you. I'm sorry." And somewhere midway through those words, Jeno's voice changes the second time. The anger and coldness are now gone, replaced by a feeling of disappointment. Not at Kun. At himself.

Once again, he tries to rise from the seat and leave the car, but once again, Kun's hand stops him.

"Jeno," he starts, with an unexpected surge of confidence in his body. "If I asked you out on a date, would you say yes?" Jeno sits back down. He looks at Kun in confusion. "No money transactions. No sugar dating. I just really want to spend time with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate writing endings i think that much is clear in how all this sounds
> 
> lola marsh - something stupid


End file.
